Colours and Promises
by flippedeclipse
Summary: Shepard has nightmares, and Garrus can't sleep. He takes care of her during the long hours of the night. Just a short fluffy scene from their lives.


A/N: So, this just... spilled out of my head a couple of days ago. I was thinking of something to write for the Garrus fanbook and this just hit me for some reason. Not much here other than some fluff. =)

Also, if you're a Garrus fan and want to contribute to a book fans are sending to Bioware, head over to the No Shepard Without Vakarian thread on the Hold the Line forums. It's not a Retake initiative, it's to show our appreciation to Bioware for the best turian ever! We're looking for contributions of: fanart, fanfiction (below 1000 words preferably), letters, screenshots, photos, it's pretty open. Submissions close on June 10th, so if you want to get it in, be quick!

Enough of my rambling now, here's the story. The title belongs to Christina Perri.

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**Colours and Promises**

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The lights were off when he entered the loft. Even the glow from the aquarium had been dimmed, giving everything a dull, beryl hue. He could just make out her sleeping form on the bed, curled into a tight ball with her head hidden under the sheets. Must have been another headache, maybe a dream too.

He placed the tray in his hands on her desk, and placed a hand against the cup of tea briefly; it would stay warm for a little while more. He took a moment to turn on her terminal, glancing her way when the screen came to life to make sure she hadn't woken up, then checked through the messages quickly. There was nothing of dire importance, for which he was grateful for, so he turned it back off and brought his attention to his armour, and started making quick work of the clasps. He undressed quickly down to his undersuit, placing all the pieces in a messy pile under her desk as usual, though he made sure to do it soundlessly. Not even a headache pushed away the natural instincts Shepard still apparently carried from her military training, though it subdued her considerably; normally she would have been awake the moment the doors had opened.

He made his way down the steps, moving silently to her side of the bed and looked her over carefully. He could just make out the twitch of a muscle under the thin blanket, which confirmed his suspicions. No wonder she hadn't woken up. He moved back to the other side and did his best to climb on top of the mattress while moving her as little as possible. She got little enough sleep as it was without him shaking her around when she did take a break. He settled in close to her, not quite touching, but close enough to feel the warmth from her body radiating onto his own plates.

Thankfully though, he didn't wake her up. He moved the blanket away from her face and caught the slightest squeeze of her eyes in the dim light, coupled with twitches in the muscles of her face. A nightmare, again. This was the second time this week, at least that he had caught, and two times too many for him. He studied her face for a moment, watching the movements across her face intently. The patterns were familiar now, but that didn't make them any easier to watch. Though this wasn't even the worst part; that was when she woke up, with complete terror in her eyes that looked utterly alien on her. It was disorienting, if he was honest.

He sighed, perhaps a little too loudly, then pressed his back against the ledge behind him, purposely drawing his gaze away from her face. He didn't need to see her to confirm what was already running through his mind, that this war had taken a toll on both of them they would probably never be able to reverse. Her nightmares, his insomnia... both unspoken yet unhidden secrets between them, that they didn't dare speak out loud so the other could sleep peacefully at night. The irony of it all almost made him laugh.

He was drawn out of his thoughts with the slightest whimper from her. It still wasn't a sound he was used to hearing, mostly because it was difficult to imagine her weak enough to make it. But it served as his warning now, that she was sinking into the worst parts, and so he took his cue. He knew better than to wake her by now, but he had discovered that gentle touches would calm her and bring her back to consciousness, back to him. He ran a hand through her hair, from the roots to the ends, pulling lightly while watching the expression on her face shift freeze and then relax by a miniscule amount. He repeated the gesture over, watching as the fear mellowed slowly and agonizingly from her body. He smoothed the frazzled pieces from her face, lightly running his talons over her forehead and cheekbones, taking his own comfort from the contact. It helped to watch her calm down and slowly begin her waking process, once the jerky movements went away, as there was a kind of peacefulness that permeated through her, something he never saw when she was awake. It was his own little treasure, he had decided long ago, something to help him get through the long hours of each day.

He'd been stroking her hair unconsciously for a while now, and she was on the verge of rousing. He massaged her scalp near the crown of her head, just firmly enough to wake her, and she opened her eyes almost instantly. He was grateful that there was no fear or alarm in them, just some kind of baleful tranquility that reflected off those little golden flecks peppered through her hazel irises. Her eyes fascinated him, even though she'd admitted that they were genetically modified; there was something rather striking about their colour against the dark tan of her skin that felt unsettling, unnatural, but in a good way, if that even made sense.

"Hey," she murmured, voice thick.

"Hey yourself." He continued to massage her scalp gently, at which she breathed a sigh.

"Was I asleep long?" Her eyes fluttered open and shut, as if she was resisting the urge to succumb to sleep again. Knowing her, she probably was.

"Not sure."

"Hmm." She squirmed for a moment to extract her hand from the tangles of the blanket, then pressed it against his leg, her fingers curling and exploring of their own will. She was thinking intently about something, but of what, he couldn't tell. He had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with the dream she'd just woken up from, but he didn't prod her about it. They sat in silence, enjoying the other's company while their own thoughts were miles away on things that plagued their minds too much already.

Eventually, he spoke, though it just slipped from his tongue. "I brought you tea." She chuckled softly.

"I know, I can smell it. Peppermint again?"

"Mmm. It's probably cold by now though."

"That's okay." She began to move, and for a moment he figured she was going to get up, but instead she pressed closer to him, pressing her face into his outer thigh. It surprised him, as she usually wasn't the type for these kind of affections, but it wasn't unwelcome. He tangled his fingers further into her hair and pressed it against her scalp, enjoying the feel of her cool flesh under his palm. "Have you slept?" Her voice was slightly muffled now.

"Not tired."

"Garrus."

"Call it work stress." She huffed, then pulled away to glare up at him. He couldn't help but laugh at the way she attempted to be threatening while still half-asleep; she might be a force to be reckoned with for the rest of the galaxy, but even at her worst he didn't fear her during their private moments. "Slept alright?"

"No," came her uncomfortable answer. She looked away, past him, at the wall. "I miss Thane."

He exhaled slowly. So that was it. He should have known better, she always had those nightmares after another friend was taken by this war. This utterly nonsensical, incomprehensible war. "He was a good man. One of our own." He took a quick glance at her again. Her gaze was still fixed on the wall, but she was looking beyond it, he knew, buried in her own memories. She didn't reply, so he took it as indication to keep talking until something got a reaction out of her. "Challenged him to a shooting match once actually, just for fun. We never carried through with it, though, completely forgot after you brought us down to help out Liara. Though, I did remind him that he owed me because I had to put up with your skycar driving-" She choked a laugh. It sounded wet and stiff, but it was real. His mandibles relaxed to form a pleased expression as he pressed a hand into her back, tracing little circles as he heard her swallow painfully.

"I'm not that bad..." she mumbled, though it was clear she didn't believe her own words.

"I consider myself lucky to be alive," he deadpanned, which made her smile visibly. Mission accomplished.

She was silent for a while, but the way she fidgeted with the material of his undersuit told him that she had something to say, so he waited patiently. Eventually, she spoke, slowly and deliberately. "Do you miss those times?" Ah, the question he'd been avoiding to think about for quite some time. Sometimes he wondered if she knew him too well.

"No good reminiscing about the past, Shepard."

"According to the turian with penchant for saying 'just like old times' to every person he meets."

"Lying isn't polite, you know." He was rewarded with a smack against his leg and a faint laugh.

"A little exaggeration never hurt anyone."

"Mmm." Silence fell over them for a brief moment. "I don't know if I do. We were borderline criminals for quite a while, after all."

The words made her still, though he couldn't put his finger on why. Mentally he cursed himself for it; after all, she could read him like an open book, but he seemingly couldn't manage to figure out something this simple. Eventually she relaxed again and seemed to push the remark out of her mind, propping herself on her elbows as the blanket fell off her shoulders. She was wearing that ratty old Alliance shirt that she'd cut the sleeves off of ages ago for no real reason. Now though he wished that she hadn't cut them off, because the blend of her dark skin with the dark blue light from the aquarium made her look purple and bruised, and despite his better reasoning it bothered him. She caught his stare before he could manage to break it, and looked back at him with a clear question in her eyes.

"Problem?" she asked.

"Not at all."

"Hmm." She didn't seem to buy it. Of course she didn't. She did have the decency to change the subject though, looking over to where he'd left the tray of food hours ago. "Did you bring food?"

He chuckled. "It'll be cold now, whatever it is." She glanced at him.

"You've eaten?"

"Yeah." She huffed, then pushed off her arms and moved to get up, before he stopped her with a hand. She looked over at him curiously. "What?"

"Your head." A little flash of memory flickered through her eyes. Typical of her to forget. Of course, her headaches didn't start until sudden movement, so he guessed it was only natural.

"Right."

"Right." He pulled her down, albeit gently, placing her head on his leg into a somewhat awkward position. She squirmed around for a while, trying to find a more comfortable position, before simply resting her head there and dangling her ankles over the side of the bed. He checked his talons, purely out of habit, just to make sure they were blunted enough not to pierce skin. They hadn't been long enough to do so for weeks now, but the action was almost ingrained into him by now. He pressed his thumb against her temple, feeling for the faint pulse of her heartbeat. For some reason it was always tough to find, but he managed it fairly quickly this time. He traced little circles on her temple; it was like a trigger for her, making her go limp almost instantly, which he found both amusing and endearing.

"You're too good to me," she mumbled after a few moments, her voice considerably softer.

"I know." Another laugh from her. He was getting pretty good at this, if he could say so himself.

"Don't get cocky, Vakarian."

"Mmm, you're the one feeding my ego, though." He rubbed in little circles across her forehead to the other side, massaging gingerly into the thin skin.

"Well..." He twitched his mandibles at the look of sheer bliss that seemed to come over her face. She didn't have many weaknesses, but he'd found pampering to be one of them, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy exploiting it.

"Shh." For once, she actually listened. He simply watched her eyes open and close at a slowing rate, slightly spellbound with the way the light reflected off her eyelashes subtly every time she did so. She was a marvel of her own sometimes.

"You're going to put me to sleep," she murmured, eyelids quivering as she attempted and failed to open them.

"Then go," he hummed back, pushing back the tendrils of hair that had sneaked close to her face.

"Will you be here?" He could barely hear her words, though it sounded like she wasn't aware of the fact that she was saying them.

"Of course." She seemed to let go of the last inhibitions she had still managed to hold on to, and finally let sleep overwhelm her. He didn't move anything but his fingers along her skin for a long time, finding the solace sleep no longer brought in her presence. Brief glances at the clock let him count the hours until the day cycle begun, while he took the moments he had to just think. Of the people they'd lost, of the ones they would lose, of the sheer amount of massacre they saw on every planet they landed on, and the sheer amount of hope riding on Shepard's shoulders every day. He couldn't decide if it was sobering or something worth getting drunk over.

He checked the time. It would be morning soon on the ship, and sleep was still reluctant to come, but that was okay with him. He traced the lines of her face gently, barely touching her so as to not wake her up. Whatever grandiose conclusion all this death and annihilation came to, he knew where his place would be through the entire journey. It would be right here, by Shepard's side, giving her whatever she needed to keep going for another day. Maybe it was for the better that he couldn't sleep anymore, because he couldn't shake the feeling that these last few weeks with her were all he'd have.


End file.
